“Trystan’s just as bad.”
“He thinks he is, but he’s not. You need to be careful around both of them.” She goes to the couch to sit down. “Those boys are dangerous.”
“How so?” I ask, putting on the t-shirt.
“Braden gets you under his spell without you even knowing it. Part of it’s his looks but most of it’s his personality. It’s how he gets girls, even girls who claim to hate him.”
“What about Trystan?” I ask, pulling on my shorts.
“He rats people out. If he wants to get you in trouble, he will.”
She’s right. Trystan’s been trying to catch me doing something since I got here. He’s trying to find something to get me in trouble, and I have no idea why.
“Assuming you weren’t related,” Shayla says, “you really wouldn’t date Braden?”
“No! He’s rude, obnoxious, and thinks he’s better than everyone.”
“Okay, be honest.” She gets up and comes over to me at the mirror. “You’re not even the tiniest bit attracted to him?”
I turn to face her. “Yeah, a little, but then I remember he’s my cousin. You ready to go?”
“Yeah. Where do you want to eat?”
“You’ll have to pick. I don’t know the area.”
We go outside and get in her tiny, rusted-out car, which is littered with soda bottles and candy wrappers.
“Sorry about the mess,” she says with a laugh. “Spending hours cleaning up houses makes me too tired to clean up my car. Or my room. It’s a mess too.”
“You think you’ll keep doing it?”
“Being a maid? Probably. It’s good money and I can work for my mom. And when she retires, I’ll take over the business.”
We drive through town and come to an area I recognize from earlier in the week. I smile when she pulls off the road and parks next to the long, green metal building.
“I’ve been here,” I say.
“Really? When?”
“A few days ago. I went here for breakfast.”
“Brock took you here?” she asks, sounding shocked because this place is too dumpy for Brock.
“I went with a neighbor.”
She looks at me. “Who?”
Do I tell her? What if I can’t trust her? Her mom knows I was with Jackson, but she doesn’t know I’ve continued to see him.
“Rumor, who is it?”
“I’d rather not say.”
“Why?”
I hesitate, wanting to tell her, but worried she might tell my cousins.
“It’s Jackson,” she says. “Am I right?”
